


Take A Gamble

by oldestcharm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 08:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldestcharm/pseuds/oldestcharm
Summary: It is, according to theBeacon Hills Report, the hottest day of the year so far and Derek finds himself almost missing the hotel in South America where he and Cora had spent three weeks simply lounging by the pool. There is no pool in Beacon Hills. There is only drought and endless sunshine that had almost started a wildfire.





	Take A Gamble

Scott is explaining something important.

Or rather Derek assumes it is important, because he hasn’t been listening for the past twenty minutes or so. He’d feel a bit guilty about it but he’s not the only one – Liam is tapping determinedly at his phone, Lydia seems to be skimming through what seems to be a fashion magazine, Malia’s playing with a loose thread of her jeans, yawning every five minutes and even Kira is staring a point at Scott’s shoulder with a somewhat vague expression. None of them seem to be in a particularly good mood and Derek supposes that their discomfort comes from the same source, which would be the almost unbearable heat.

It is, according to the _Beacon Hills Report_, the hottest day of the year so far and Derek finds himself almost missing the hotel in South America where he and Cora had spent three weeks simply lounging by the pool. There is no pool in Beacon Hills. There is only drought and endless sunshine that had almost started a wildfire a couple of days ago. Thankfully, the fire department had got there before it could spread too much, but the burnt wood smelled far too familiar for Derek to go out into the Preserve willingly, so he shut himself in his loft in hopes the smell of smoke would fade away sooner rather than later.

Intriguingly, so has Stiles, who seems to have made himself at home in Derek’s loft, for whatever reason, he still isn’t entirely sure. Derek has almost managed to forget he’s there, seeing as he’s been strangely quiet for the most part. _Has been_ are the key words here, because the tiny harassed groans coming from his direction now are extremely distracting.

When Derek dares to look at him, he has his eyes closed, head tipped back and is rubbing his pale mole dotted neck with a can of soda, which must feel uncomfortable and fucking fantastic both at the same time. His bright red t-shirt is clinging to his skin and his hair is sticking up in all directions as though he’s been fucked up against a wall. It’s both ridiculous and ridiculously hot and Derek can’t quite drag his eyes away from the sight.

Derek sees it coming. Stiles is far too deep in his near-pornographic cooling down show that his fingers slip on the can of soda and he fumbles a little, movement slowed down quite like a cat who’s just waking up from a nap out in the Sun. For whatever reason Derek cannot quite think of he reaches out just in time to catch it before it collides with the floor. He blinks in surprise at the can of soda and offers it back to Stiles not able to avoid the awkwardly intense eye contact when Stiles’ fingers brush against his wrist. Derek keeps his expression carefully blank and draws back, folding his arms.

“Thanks,” Stiles offers after a moment of silence where everyone’s eyes are suddenly on the two of them. He clears his throat and opens the can of soda with more force than strictly necessary. And because Derek hasn’t been tortured enough in his life, the can overflows and Stiles makes brave attempts to keep the sticky liquid at bay when he slurps at the top and licks off the stream running down his hand. It’s gross, that’s what it is. Definitely.

He looks away with an annoyed expression, eyes landing on Scott who simply smirks and mouths ‘_you’re broadcasting_’ at him. Derek merely scowls in return, because look who’s talking. Scott may be the new alpha, but that doesn’t mean he can just point out uncomfortable truths in the middle of Derek’s living room. Derek’s having none of that crap from a (possibly) 17 year old. Fucked if he knows. Either way, he’s still the official adult of the pack. The adult who _has his own place_. Well, technically, there’s also Peter, but no one’s counting him. Ever. Plus, Derek isn’t even sure if he has a place of his own. He might actually be living in an underground network of caves as Stiles is always so keen to offer as an alternative. Derek doesn’t want to know.

****

When the pack meeting is finally over Derek flops onto his sofa with a groan, flings a hand over his face and pretends he’s on a vacation in Antarctica. While Derek isn’t exactly the one to talk, he figures he’s handling the humidity better than the rest of them, even if his handling involves a lot of inappropriate thoughts about some asshole who seems determined to never ever leave him alo-

“What’s with the dramatics, Derek? I thought smoldering was more your thing rather than moping.”

Derek jumps, having forgotten Stiles’ presence once again. The distracted tone of his voice makes Derek peer over his hand at the armchair where Stiles is sprawled in, laptop on his knees, typing furiously. Derek props himself up on his elbows and frowns in his direction. “You’re still here?” He asks, decidedly ignoring the jab at his person.

“Yeah, I was doing some research. But listen to this,” Stiles says, making a strenuous attempt at sitting up straight, but all it does is make his shirt ride up further and Derek actually hates him. “‘_Fire elementals can appear in many forms. Often they prefer taking on the shape of a lizard, not to be confused with Salamanders who instead of causing drought have the ability to extinguish fire by excluding a milky substance. Fire elementals are known to wreak havoc and turn even the most fertile grounds into a huge wasteland._’ What do you think? Could be the cause of our problems?” He blinks his large whisky colored eyes at him and Derek almost doesn’t have the energy to tell him how shit his theory is. Almost.

“Fire elementals? Seriously?” he asks, levelling the most skeptical look he can manage at Stiles. “Where’d you get this crap?”

“The Internet, Derek,” Stiles shoots back with a smirk and god, the curl of his lips shouldn’t be this attractive. “You know that virtual space you’ve never been on. You can access it on your phone.” The implied ‘_because clearly you’ve never owned a laptop_’ simply hangs in the air. Derek huffs, digs out his phone from his back pocket and tosses it at Stiles who barely manages to catch it. His eyebrows shoot up incredulously as he turns Derek’s phone over in his hands and inspects the large hole that pierces the screen right in the middle. “Jesus, Derek, what happened to your phone?”

“Got shot in the woods,” Derek says with a shrug and pulls himself into an upright position on the sofa. Stiles flails a little, somehow managing not to dislodge his computer from his lap. Derek is strangely proud of him.

“You got shot in the ass?” Stiles asks, lips twitching uncontrollably as his eyes drop lower for a moment on Derek’s body and any fond feelings he’d had just a moment ago are gone in a heartbeat. What a little shit.

“Shut up.” He scowls and folds his arms with a huff. “I thought you were going to tell me about your elementals theory.” Derek adds in an attempt to distract him, because he doesn’t want to be mocked ruthlessly in the entire foreseeable future.

“Right. Of course. Elementals.” Stiles says, eyes still gleaming dangerously as he shuts his laptop and sets it aside. He stumbles out of the armchair and stretches languorously. Derek looks away decidedly, he really doesn’t need to see this. “They don’t like water much, so I was thinking we should get a garden hose and check it out.”

“That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard from you,” Derek supplies, scraping his fingers across his beard thoughtfully. He figures he looks pretty old and wise doing that, but in reality he cannot put together a coherent thought or two. Stiles’ plan is probably going to end in a disaster, but anything’s better than the idea of being stuck in his loft for another couple of weeks with Stiles staring at him wide-eyed, mouth open, all appealing… “Alright, let’s go.” He says quickly, snapping out of his thoughts and making a beeline for the door with Stiles hot on his heels.

****

Basically, it’s just gross.

The whole way there in the stuffy Jeep feels a lot like they’re being baked in an oven and it’s short of a miracle Stiles manages to stay on course the entire time and doesn’t crash his car into the nearest tree. He does seem a little distracted, though and seems to drift off a couple of times, but Derek just elbows him sharply and threatens physical harm to his Jeep, which seems to rouse him enough for them to get to their destination.

They’re standing side by side next to the ruins of Derek’s old house and looking for a water hose Derek’s about sixty percent sure they used to have. Okay, maybe fifty, but back in the day they’d had a lovely garden, so the must have owned a hose at one point or another. He thinks. If he’s honest he never really paid attention to much outside of basketball and hot girls in his teenage years. Housework definitely hadn’t been a priority.

“Are you sure-“ Stiles begins, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand and Derek can’t even be bothered to glare at him properly. If it was warm back inside Derek’s loft with the fancy air conditioning he had got installed then outside is practically the seventh circle of Hell.

“No.” Derek admits, narrowing his eyes at the scene in front of them, “But we can use a… uh… a watering can.” He makes a sluggish gesture towards the corner of the house and Stiles nods gravely as they proceed to clear out the weeds and the moss, filling the can with murky water from the old well in the backyard.

“Cool, that’s a great idea,” Stiles says, grinning at him widely and looking breathtakingly beautiful in the Sun.

****

“This was a dumb idea,” Stiles grunts as they stomp through the preserve in their search for the fire elementals. His insistence of carrying the water can has resulted in Stiles attempting to carry it in more and more bizarre ways, spilling water onto himself so often Derek’s surprised there’s still any left in the can. Between him and the general dryness of the air they should have done the job quite well, but yet again Stiles stumbles on a root and a bit of water sloshes onto his shirt, making it cling to his skin in an appealing manner Derek doesn’t want to think about at all.

“Yeah, it is. We’ve scanned practically every corner of the woods at this point.” Derek points out as they find the Jeep again and collapse against it side by side. They’re both sweaty and gross and all Derek is interested in is a nice long shower.

“Right, let’s go,” Stiles says scrunching up his nose and making an obvious effort to get the door of his Jeep open. The motion sends him stumbling back a little, but he climbs inside and sets the watering can in Derek’s lap right as he settles on the passenger side. It’s wet and the bottom is sort of muddy, but they’re both too tired to argue about any of this, so Derek wraps his hands around it without any protest.

“I’m going to need a shower,” Derek sighs, resting his head against the rusty metal of the watering can and closing his eyes. Half an hour scrubbing wouldn’t get all of the sweat, mud and bits of nature out.

“Same.” Stiles offers eventually, a good while later when he’s pulling up to Derek’s loft and Derek has to strain his memory to know what he’s responding to. It’s a long time to think about and a part of him wonders whether Stiles spent the entire way back thinking about... about Derek in the shower. He hums approvingly and makes an attempt to get out of the car, which is a trying task seeing as the watering can is restricting his movement in the already tight space. Stiles merely smiles fondly, makes his way round the Jeep and opens the passenger door. “Come on now, give that to me.” He says softly, extracting the watering can from him so Derek can get out and frowning contemplatively at the setting Sun as though it is some sort of great puzzle for him to figure out.

****

“We’re idiots,” Stiles announces, expression clearing as the elevator doors open and Derek pulls open the door to the loft. “I’m an idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks, shutting the heavy door behind them, clearly baffled. Stiles sets down the watering can and clasps Derek’s arms with an expression that is a mixture of pity and amusement. Derek’s not sure he likes that. He’s never liked being pitied and he can only hope that if Stiles insists on mockery at such a tiring moment they are both the butt of the joke.

“The fire department.” Stiles says, eyes wide and insistent as he starts rubbing soothing motions into Derek’s biceps with his thumbs. It is more intimate than appropriate between two friends, but this time Derek doesn’t pull away. He allows Stiles the comforting gesture and concentrates on what he is attempting to get across instead. “Derek, the fire department got involved. They have way better equipment than we do. If there were any fire elementals to begin with they have been dealt with. And to think we were going to go in with a watering can!”

Slowly but surely the words register in his brain and after the first twitch of his lips, Derek lets out a startled laugh. “We’re idiots,” he agrees, ducking his head to hide the grin that mostly ends up in Stiles’ shoulder. The scent of him is all around him, a thick presence of Stiles and Derek feels a little overwhelmed. The hands on his arms still and slide up to his shoulders, his neck. The movement’s hesitant, but firm and Derek finds himself leaning into the touch willingly. All he can think of now is kissing him. Finally. Properly. Derek thinks he just might.

The fingers tighten suddenly on the nape of his neck and Stiles groans loudly, “Scott must never know about this.”

“Which this?” Derek asks, feeling bold enough to bring his hands to rest on Stiles’ hips. He lets his fingertips stroke the warm skin between his pants and t-shirt and searches whisky-gold eyes for a conformation he so desperately needs. He can’t help the part of him that is a little insecure to show through, but he gives into vulnerability and allows everything about him speak of intention.

“The other thing.” Stiles murmurs as he slides his arms properly around Derek’s neck and leans closer, a tiny pleased smile on his lips. “Not us. We’re too hot.”

And yeah, Derek decides as he closes the distance between them, they absolutely are.


End file.
